No more pretence.No more lies.I can't do this again.Can't be pushed and pulledAnd moulded intoSomeone – something– That I'm not.

Purple bruisesCoat my bleeding heartAnd back and arms.They're all covered in the scarsThat come with yearsAnd sorrows and my past.

A shell remains,And the shell is safe.For it's pretty,And no one will break it,For people love the pretty things.

A shell remains,But the shell is weak.And it will let me down,For there are many pretty things,Yes, there are many pretty things,This world is oh so fullOf "original" designs and patternsWonder what they think of me?

The blood is gone,All wiped away,And thrown into the trash.My poor eyes are drained,There's no tears left.No betrayal of emotion.

Oh, if there was just a wayTo protect this piece of me.Just to keep it safeAnd keep it whole and cleanAnd pureAnd just soPerfect…

But I lie about the lie.And that lie is the onlyLie I'm telling now,I swear there is only one.Yes, I swear there's only one.Just a single untruth,And that's the truth.The whole damned truth.I swear.I swear…

The author would like to thank you for your continued support. Your review has been posted.